


I've Tried Everything (But Everything Is Not Enough)

by tupelouharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Elounor, Fluff, M/M, angsty Harry, harry is really sad bc elounor :(, im awful at tags shoot me, im pretty proud of this fic tbqh, ooh ooh dont forget LA house headcanon!!!!!!, pls dont :D, this is actually pretty sad if u think about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:46:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tupelouharry/pseuds/tupelouharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You’re going right now?”</p><p>Harry didn’t answer. He couldn’t bear to be the cause of the downwards tilt on Louis’ lopsided grin.</p><p>“Can I come with you?” he tried then, desperate, almost as if he was clutching at straws. It was enough to make Harry want to pull off his coat and resume his position, curled up with his boy, where he knew what to do and how to feel. He missed that quite a lot, it appeared. </p><p>“You know the answer to that question, love.” Harry answered, hesitant and worn down. </p><p>“I’ll wait in the car! Please H, don’t do this. Don’t hide yourself from me, I can’t take it.” Louis whispered, eyes finally meeting Harry’s who had been fixated on the door to avoid this exact moment. “Please.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry decides to try being his own hero for once. </p><p>(harry trying a few things to distract himself from the pain that is Elounor)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Tried Everything (But Everything Is Not Enough)

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii so this fic is my baby that was born on a hot summers day yadayadayada pls take care of it as I rather like it!  
> This was meant to be a quick happy one shot not a 5k angst-a-thon jfc
> 
> If u are on the twitters holla at me @bravestlou !!!!!!!  
> ((if u already follow I can't thank u enough for encouraging me to write again)) (kisses emoji)
> 
> DISCLAIMER I DO NOT OWN ONE DIRECTION OR ANY OF THE PRODUCTS OR TV PROGRAMMES MENTIONED IN THIS OKAY
> 
>  
> 
> title comes from "I've Tried Everything" by Olly Murs which is a fab song and is a good one to listen to for this fic!
> 
>  
> 
> thank you again, comments would make me happy xo

Harry Styles was drowning in himself. 

He had always prided himself in keeping his head above the water and his heart in the clouds, his spirit in the sky. He had been raised in a truly marvellous way, like nothing anyone has ever seen. Saying his pleases, expressing his thank yous, even to those who don’t deserve it. Especially to those who don’t deserve it. But really, who could have predicted that the kindest of men, feet firmly planted where he stood, struggled to battle the tides within his own mind?

He was more than aware. More than aware that his and Louis’ situation was an awful one. An inhumane, awful situation in which they found themselves trapped. But they fought, goddamnit. They fought hard. And they knew that it would be over before they knew it. They knew that when it was, it would be more than worth it. But, mantras begun grow tired to worn ears. There was only a certain number of times that they could whisper promises to one another before it turned them insane. Harry didn’t know many people that could do what he did; standing with grins galore, watching with hopelessly sad eyes his love in the arms of another. 

One day, he decided to do something about it.

He had suffered in the prison of his own wondering thoughts for long enough. He needed to escape before it became dangerous to his fighting spirit; it was only a matter of time before Harry’s heart begun to believe the lies of which his head had fed it. Louis had left the house that morning, a teary kiss pressed to the curls upon Harry’s head. It wasn’t so much upsetting anymore to him as it was tiring. It was stressful and unfair and wrong in every sense of the word, but both Harry and Louis had become almost numb to the pain, to the thoughts. It didn’t hurt as much anymore. They were just so tired.

“Home by dinner time babe,” he had said, sniffling slightly as a sigh escaped his lips. “I promise this time.”

Only half awake, Harry sat up immediately, corners of his mouth turning up at the sight of Louis, his boy, dressed up in a pair of jeans and his own oversized white tee shirt. One look at that tee shirt, however, reminded Harry why Louis wasn’t asleep, nestled into his arms, tucked into his neck. The outing to the café, the usual routine. Coffee. Fake smiles. Clasped hands. Desperate eyes, hinting tears too tired to fall. He hooked his arms around Louis’ neck, holding him closer, never close enough. Never close enough to make him stay. A kiss to the cheek and that same word before he was gone, leaving Harry stranded again.

Harry had become all too familiar to the feeling of being stranded. But what was he to do? What even was the point of having a boyfriend, a life partner, if he always had to leave? The worst part, for Harry, was the ways in which he dealt with this. Louis didn’t choose to march out of bed at the crack of dawn. He didn’t ask to parade around with a girl to whom he didn’t belong. So Harry couldn’t even protest. He couldn’t look Louis in the eyes, the crystal blue he fell so deeply into, fading into a grey with specks of green. He couldn’t do that, and tell Louis that he doesn’t understand, for he knew all too well that Louis understands. Sometimes, during a particularly dark night, Harry had begun to wish there were some secrets that Louis had kept. He begun to wish that he didn’t know how Louis felt, so that for a fleeting moment, he could still find peace during the day.

But, he supposed, there are some things that were just not meant to be.

And other things, just were.

So he tried to tell himself “It just kinda happened”, that “it is what it is”. He tried that, and it worked, and so he could live his days without the all too familiar feeling of carrying tonnes on his back. However, on days like that, days in which he woke up feeling so empty and pre exhausted, days in which he woke up without Louis, are days in which Harry could not find the energy in him to get out of bed.

And well, that really hurt him. 

He used to be such a morning person. When he was a child, he used to relish jumping from his bed in the mornings and into a crisp school uniform. Sitting at the breakfast bar with a glass of orange juice, playing footsie with Gemma under the table. On the weekends, as a teenager, he never found one excuse to stay in bed. He was always up and out, singing, writing, and learning. Maybe that’s why. Maybe by now, Harry has learnt all that he needs to know.

But that couldn’t have been it, for mornings with Louis and his boys in the X Factor house, bodies buzzing, minds whirring of what was to happen that day. Cooking pancakes with Louis in their kitchen, wrapped in one another as they thought forward to a time in which they could share mornings like this with their own little family. God only knows they will have earned it by then. 

 

***

 

So, he tried cooking.

The slamming of the door behind Louis caused for tears to spring to Harry’s eyes almost instantaneously. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut, rather than to bore into the startling white sheets, bare, crinkled into a shape he loved so dear. After a few minutes passed in which he lay emotionless on the mattress, his eyes began to open. The sun was high in the sky that morning, filtering in through the bedroom window, casting shadows onto the gold framed photographs that Harry had carefully placed onto a unit. He smiled wistfully at the sight of them, as he slowly begun to pull himself from the bed. He could do this. For Louis, for anyone who felt so inferior to another. For the hope he clung to, in which he would help so many voices be heard, when all was said and done. He could do it for himself. 

His feet hit the carpeted floor, as his hands roamed the rugs for a t-shirt of Louis’ to drag him through the day. He couldn’t find the one he was looking for - a simple, white one with a slight see through pattern. It belonged to him originally, yet it was shared by the both of them, hand prints engrained into the fabric in permanent crinkles. The size of Louis’ handprint, Harry thought, as he realised that Louis must have worn it out with Eleanor. The thought of him drowning in the shirt for comfort warmed his heart more than the cup of tea Louis had left on the side for him to wake up to. With a smile gracing his face, he threw on a black t shirt of Louis’ and a pair of jeans. He pulled on the jacket shared by him and Louis, and despite it coming a touch too short on his lengthened torso, he tucked his neck into the white wool collar as he breathed the scent of his boy. 

He practically galloped down the staircase, possibly the happiest he had ever been without Louis by his side. Because in him that day was a spur of inspiration, of courage, of hope for the future of so many people who needed it. Stepping into his worn boots and out of the door, a cold wind caressed his cheeks as he dashed to the black Mercedes waiting in the driveway. It wasn’t often he got to drive, so it was almost symbolic as he turned his keys in the ignition. It was another step forward.

Pulling up in front of the supermarket doors was one of the hardest hitting things Harry had done in a while. It made him realise that he hadn’t actually been grocery shopping since the early days on the X Factor, full of naïve smiles and nervous touches. Of freedom. His last time grocery shopping he remembered so well; Louis had suggested he make fajitas, after his success with the dish a few nights back. They tottered around the isles giddily, swinging a basket between bodies clothed in Hollister bottoms and slippers, beanie clad heads pressed together, arms around one another. You could liken them, say, to a compass and a ship. Now, he knew, that this was a trip he never wanted to make alone again. His hands shook slightly as he retrieved his keys from the ignition and tugged on the door handle, toying with the Jamaican teddy bear that was dangling from a silver chain in his fist. Steadily, he took a breath. He stepped inside, feeling independent, yet resoundingly alone. 

Harry’s plan was to cook, to take his mind off of the majority of things, it seemed. He wanted to cook spaghetti bolognaise, a dish that held a whole variety of memories, both sweet and sour. The time Louis had spoon fed Harry heap upon heap of spaghetti, hastily kissing the sauce off of his lips. The time Louis had threatened to leave, slamming his plate onto the table with a crash that had startled Harry to tears. The threat hadn’t lasted long. It never did. Time after time, the pressure put upon them threatened to break them and yet, they bounced back. Their boys had since admitted that there were so many times they had prepared for a break up, for their family unit to shatter into two. But one look between brothers, and they knew. They were strong.

Eager to get out of the shop, Harry chucked his favourite brands into a basket, startled that he hadn’t been noticed once. Small victories. A quick flash of his card, and he was seated once again in his car, taking small breaths. He would come back to this supermarket with Louis someday, he told himself, someday soon. Late at night maybe. Somehow, shopping wasn’t the same for him without a running commentary from Louis. He favoured the proximity of their relationship over the streets of LA, without a smaller hand in his. There wasn’t even a deliberation to be made. 

 

***

 

Back in the kitchen at his and Louis’ flat, Harry was at a loss for what to do next. He had a bag of ingredients staring him in the face, and a cup of tea in his hands, as if to spur him on. With a contented sigh, he rested his phone in the docking station, hands flurrying knowlingly to his cooking playlist, turning the sound up as the introduction to Wouldn’t It Be Nice began to blast through his kitchen. Momentarily, his hand hovered over the skip button, before stretching it towards the packet of spaghetti and grinning to himself. Small victories, indeed.

Cooking, for Harry, certainly begun to work effectively as some minor branch of retail therapy. It allowed him to focus on the happier times that he and Louis would have in the future, rather than the ultimately awful time they were having. There would be plenty of times in which Harry could dance while cooking spag bol in the kitchen, and there would almost definitely be times when he would be cooking extra portions. Christmas dinner, birthday meals, families gathered in nothing but love. Simple, pure love. Those days couldn’t come a moment too soon. 

Steam and intoxicating aromas begun to fill the cosy room as Harry dished hearty amounts of food onto plates. He lay the table, pouring tall glasses on orange juice and took a deep breath to shout for Louis when he realised.

He wasn’t home.

And it wasn’t his fault, Harry had simply misjudged the time and cooked dinner too early for Louis to make it home on time. Tears rimmed his eyes as he started spooning the contents of Louis plate into a Tupperware tub for him to eat when he came home. His cheeks begun to feel damp as he slumped over the counter, trying so, so hard not to think. He didn’t want to think, not anymore. He was so tired of feeling. Of feeling happy, only to be shot down. Of feeling sad, only for it to destroy him. Of feeling loved, when he was made to feel so wrong. Blubbering helplessly, Harry sunk to the floor, curling up around himself. Anything to make it all go away, if only for a little while. And of course, that was when Louis pushed the door open carefully, calling for Harry, sounding exhausted.

“Love? You home?” he questioned, unsure even of Harry’s whereabouts. And that was a pain that forced a broken cry from Harry’s lips. Louis wasn’t even sure if he would see Harry again that night. He was expecting him to escape. And he had no problem with it whatsoever.

“Harry, babe, I’m here,” Louis repeated, frantic, as he dashed into the kitchen and sat Harry on a stool crouching down in front of him. “Dry your eyes, love, there’s my good boy."  
Louis kept Harry’s face in his hands, wiping his tears, as if it was second nature. Harry reached his hands up in search of Louis’, squeezing them tight.

“It’s you Lou, you’re here.” He whispered, disbelieving, still wishing, hoping, that he could stop feeling.

“It’s me babe.” Louis repeated, kissing Harry’s face in any area of skin he could; cheeks, nose, lips. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time, Harry had questioned the truth in what Louis had said.

 

***

 

A few months later, the Where We Are tour was set for a ground-breaking return to stadiums across America. Millions upon millions of fans, world records and post-concert highs, all of which Harry adored in equal measure. But none of which, compared to the simple 11 days of bliss, which found Harry and Louis in the house they shared in LA. Wrapped up in what can only be described as pure domestic bliss. Be that as it may, Louis had to pause the episode he had playing of Big Brother, to answer a phone call, dictating to him his ‘date’ for the next day. 

An uncharacteristic silence had replaced the energy in the room when Louis returned, cuddling closer to Harry. Harry’s lack of response was everything the two of them needed to hear.

“It’s a dinner tomorrow, babe.” Louis spoke after a beat of silence. “Car’s arriving at 7. I could get us some lunch before? Eat it in the hot tub, bottle of champagne, make a day of it?”

Louis had been tiptoeing around Harry ever since the cooking incident. It was certainly not the first time this had happened, but it was the first time in which Louis had been in the same time zone when it occurred, let alone to witness it first-hand. Because, Louis knew Harry. He knew that he preferred to keep his emotions bottled, thinking it was easier for everyone else. He knew that he could always think of a reason to beat himself up for being so upset over something that he had in his own mind to be so minor. He also knew that he would never let Harry go through that alone again. He wanted to be there for him, to talk him through it and to hold him in his arms that night. If he didn’t deserve that, he was truly stuck. Being with Harry was all he knew, all he needed to know.

The longest silence passed them by. Louis wanted to do something, anything. But he knew it had gone beyond that. And so, he held Harry in his arms, trying somehow to show him how much he needed him. Words consistently failed him on that front.

“Sounds great Lou,” Harry mumbled after a while, pressing a kiss to the back of Louis’ palm, allowing his lips to linger a while. “I’m popping out. I need some, er, stuff.”

“Stuff?” Louis questioned lightly, trying to drag something that closely resembled a smile onto Harry’s face. 

Harry nodded, and pulled himself from Louis’ lap, making his way into the hallway to pull on a pair of wrinkled camel coloured boots and a navy coat.

“You’re going right now?”

Harry didn’t answer. He couldn’t bear to be the cause of the downwards tilt on Louis’ lopsided grin.

“Can I come with you?” he tried then, desperate, almost as if he was clutching at straws. It was enough to make Harry want to pull off his coat and resume his position, curled up with his boy, where he knew what to do and how to feel. He missed that quite a lot, it appeared. 

“You know the answer to that question, love.” Harry answered, hesitant and worn down. 

“I’ll wait in the car! Please H, don’t do this. Don’t hide yourself from me, I can’t take it.” Louis whispered, eyes finally meeting Harry’s who had been fixated on the door to avoid this exact moment. “Please.”

“You know the consequences of that Lou!” Harry shouted then, taking Louis by surprise as he stumbled away from him. “For you it might be a pre-paid date with a pretty girl, but for me it’s just more of this! I don’t want to go and buy fucking cleaning supplies so I can spend my Saturday night cleaning a house I don’t live in! I want to spend it with you! I’m driving myself round the bend, Lou. I can’t bring you into that, I love you too much.”

And with that, he reached for the car keys and slammed the door behind him, a poignant sound that fitted nicely with whatever the hell else Louis was feeling that he couldn’t quite place. 

He reckoned that ‘love’ was the closest to an explanation he was going to get.

 

***

 

It was on his walk home from the nearby shopping centre that Harry realised that the cold wouldn’t sting his hands so bitterly if Louis were there to hold them in his own.

 

***

Harry decided to try cleaning, this time.

Having purchased all the goods he needed on his trip yesterday, he was left feeling lighter when Louis gave him his routine kiss upon his head before leaving that night, if only slightly. He wasn’t going to let himself mess up this time. The least he could do for himself was to tidy the house, in a last ditch attempt to restore some sort of order to his days. He needed somewhere to be safe. Safe from himself.

Harry started with picking up all of the magazines and notebooks that he and Louis had left on the floor in their living room. Deciding against listening to music this time around, he smiled to himself as the flicked through some of the lyrics that had been hastily scribbled down before Louis had to leave, having lost track of the time. Making his way to the garden, he found drained smoothie cups, pasta bowls and empty champagne glasses strewn around on the decking, chucked carelessly surrounding the hot tub. Harry rolled his eyes, before chucking all of the rubbish into a black bin liner. A victorious intake of breath. He was doing it.

After ceremoniously drinking the last of the bottle of champagne from lunch, Harry tottered into the kitchen and began to furiously scrub at the sides. Cleaning was working for him, he thought happily. Maybe he truly had cracked the secrets to his own mind. Maybe things would start to look up. Every surface gleamed by the time he deemed the kitchen done, and an hour had passed, the time on the microwave displaying 8.30 PM. That was when a seemingly innocent piece of paper caught Harry’s eye, daring him from its hiding place, wedged between the microwave and the fridge. Curiosity piqued, Harry made to grab the paper, slowly pulling it from its place to reveal a logo he knew all too well. 

And that was all he needed to see.

The dull green exclamation point almost taunting him, as if to question all of the work he had done, all the progress he had made. He didn’t even have time to mull it over before he was ripping at is, pulling it to shreds before even looking at it. It was a power thing, he admitted to Louis later on, when he had asked what had happened to it. Chucking each piece in the sink, he coated every last one in bleach before washing it away. He felt in control. For the first time since he was 16 years old, Harry Styles was in control. 

He couldn’t get enough.

Marching up the stairs with sheer determination, he tore open his wardrobe door, fully intending on burning every last piece of evidence of his captivity. His journal, packed with songs and poems alike, telling of his ordeal. He didn’t need it. All he needed, looking forward, was positivity. He needed to sing to a different tune, one of hope and of love. One which matched the beat of his heart, a rhythm matching that of Louis’ name. He was finally ready to move on. 

What Harry didn’t expect, was for him to open his door, and for everything to change.

 

***

 

A book. A heavy white book, with nothing but a silver heart on the front. It was no mystery to Harry what this book was. A photo album. A scrapbook, he had been making for Louis, documenting their lives since they met. Their audition numbers, the napkin on which Harry had given Louis his signature when they first met, the photo they had taken together that same day. Pictures with the boys, award shows, platinum albums, first shows, last shows. Pictures of the two of them; laughing, kissing, being simply LouisandHarry. Nothing else.  
It was refreshing, yet totally heart breaking all within one instant.

And it was only meant to be a 5 minute break. Really, he meant to put it straight back in its place, just in case Louis saw. But he couldn’t help but immerse himself in the good times, the times when he felt as though he could breathe. For over time, it had simply become a given. The fame was great, but without Louis, he could barely function. More importantly so, he didn’t want to.

So, that was how Harry fell asleep that night. On the floor outside of his wardrobe, cleaning long since abandoned, wading through his memories until the simpler times willed him to sleep.

 

***

 

That was, until, Louis came through their bedroom door.

Noticing how spotless the house was, Louis felt his heart crumble in his chest slightly as he bypassed the first floor, sprinting to make certain that Harry was safe. He didn’t give much thought as to what could have happened, however he knew when he walked into the room that he didn’t expect to see the man he loved so much, curled up beside the wardrobe door, clutching a thick white book to his chest. He resembled a kicked puppy, tucked in so small, so defenceless. It should have made Louis cry, upon reflection. What it did was make his blood boil and his jaw clench. A boy, with such high expectations of the world had had them shattered in the most repulsive of ways. He had been emotionally tortured by everyone he had ever known, including himself, all before turning 20 years old.

It was inhumane.

But, before Louis could correct that, he needed to pick Harry up off of the floor and get him to their bed. Then, he planned to hold him tight, to glue him back together. 

“Haz? Babe, you need to get up.” Louis whispered, kissing Harry lightly behind the ear and running careful fingers through knotted hair. Harry began to come to, eyes crinkling at the realisation that Louis was there to save him. Again. It begun to feel as if time had stood still, until Harry remembered the album he was still holding close. He sprung to his feet as his breathing started to quicken. It looked then as though nothing Harry ever did would ever pay off. He couldn’t ever keep one measly surprise from his boyfriend. He felt weak.

“Don’t look!” he cried, tucking the book neatly behind his back. “Did you see? Do you know what’s in it?”

“No, of course not love. I would never defy you like that Haz, you know that.” Louis reassured him, tugging at his shirt, beckoning him into his warmth, which Harry refused. 

“Can you wait outside whilst I hide this?” Harry asked, colour creeping onto his cheeks, causing Louis to sport a loving smile, which almost sucked the air out of Harry’s lungs. The bad times will come and go, but Harry knew in that moment that Louis’ smile was something he promised himself he would witness every day, no matter the cost. It made everything seem worth it, in the long run.

“Sure.”

 

***

 

Harry never really understood how Louis was so obsessed with Big Brother. 

The two of them watched it together whenever they could; despite their conflicting opinions about the show, they could never watch it alone. Louis needed someone to rant to, and Harry needed Louis. They just fit. It was a nice thing to return to, for Harry. Eleanor may be the one with the pleasure of calling Louis her ‘boyfriend’, but she most certainly didn’t get to watch her least favourite shows with him. That was something that no one could take from them. 

So maybe, that was why when Louis was out at a meeting with management, that he found flicking through the TV guide was easier than staring out the same white book that had won him over a few days before. Coming across some old reruns of ‘How Clean Is Your House?’ Harry made to grab a few bananas to keep his hands occupied. God knows why he watched that show. The clutter and mess in the houses caused for chills to ripple down his spine. Not necessarily the comfort he needed. But, one of the ladies who was cleaning said house (he could never remember their names, always too captivated by the feathers bordering their rubber gloves) looked like a contestant from Big Brother that Louis hated in particular. Snapping a picture and sending it off to Louis with the caption “she’s onto me!! .xx”, he felt lighter than he had in weeks.

 

***

 

“@Harry_Styles: Big Brother never fails to cheer me up when I miss my home. All the love .x”

 

***

 

Creeping through the door late that afternoon, Louis didn’t feel as though he were prepared to see another crestfallen look on a tired face. Or comparatively worse, a false smile upon a desperate cry for help. A plea to be saved. Louis didn’t know what to do.

So imagine the relief he felt when he found his boy dangling upside down on his bed. It was one the most glorious sights he had ever seen, a slight hint of a dimple surfacing upon Harry’s left cheek. Simply stunning.

Kicking off his shoes, he wasted no time in curling up next to Harry, flinging his head off of the bed in a similar fashion and linking their fingers together. 

Laying there in silence was bliss. No movement, no worries. Just LouisandHarry, being just that. All either of them ever needed.

“Lou?” Harry spoke suddenly, turning his head to meet Louis’ as he did the same.

“Yeah babe?”

“Nick said to me a while back, something about having a room in the house where there’s no negative energy, said it was helping with his stress when the radio show got big?” Harry started to explain, noticing Louis physically deflating at the mention of Nick’s name. it was something they had to work on. They had all the time in the world.

“So, what you’re saying is..?” Louis prompted, not letting his clear dislike for the subject matter of conversation deter Harry from talking at all. He truly needed to work on patching things up with Nick. He would.

“It’s nothing.” Harry stopped abruptly then, almost embarrassed.

“Haz, you need to tell me these things. Please?”

“I need somewhere where I don’t feel like I’m drowning.” He began slowly, Louis nodding to indicate he understood, with a little hint of ‘I love you no matter what’. “I need a room where we can be just us, with no interruptions. I think it could help me.”

“Consider it done, love.” Louis promised, pressing a kiss to the back of Harry’s hand, matching grins settling onto their faces once more.

“Which room?” Harry asked then, lighting up at the idea of some ounce of possibility in his life. He certainly deserved it. “We have so many good and bad memories in both…”

“What about a new house?” Louis suggested suddenly, watching Harry’s breath taking reaction of shock, happiness and pure, unabashed love.

“What?”

“The LA place you had your eye on. Is it still for sale?”

“….yeah?” Harry whispered, shaking his head to himself.

“Well let’s have it! No negative energy inside the house. All business calls to be taken outside, only good times, from here on out. Sound good?”

“Lou, it sounds perfect!” he told him, looking him dead in the eyes, sincerity mixing with love, creating a cocktail of warmth in Louis’ stomach. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, babe.” He swore. He thought he’d never meant anything more.

A comfortable silence followed, as they each bathed in the idea of a positive outcome to all of their hard work.

“Lou?”

“Haz.”

“Do you...” Harry made to stop, yet ploughed on with an encouraging squeeze of the hand reminding him he was not alone. “Would you think less of me if I looked up ways to distract myself whilst you were gone?”

“Harry, of course not.” Louis focused even more on Harry than he had ever considered possible. He couldn’t go another day with Harry believing that he was the one to blame. 

“But.. It feels to me like it’s giving them even more power.” He admitted, looking up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the white paint.

“Harry Styles. You are the strongest man I know.” Louis spoke, turning his head too to the crack in the ceiling. “For the first year or so of my contract, I wallowed a lot in my self-pity, as I know you’re aware-“

“Lou, no you d-“

“Please, Harry. I wallowed and wallowed. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, you know? But you, my love, you do. God knows how, but. Thank God someone here is strong enough for the both of us. I’ve never loved anyone more than you in my life. I never will.” His eyes strayed to Harry, who had been focused on him the whole time, eyes glimmering with soft tears. So, you keep doing what you’re doing, and we’ll get out of this. Okay?”

“I know Lou.” Harry spoke after a moment, confidence daring to poke through.

“Haz?” Louis broke the momentary silence with a piercing grin.

“Yes love?”

“Can we sit up? I’ve got head rush.”

“Of course babe.” Harry giggled, pulling both himself and Louis up onto the bed, before kissing him breathless, clinging to him for dear life. They would be okay. 

 

***

 

That must have been the night it sunk in. Louis and Harry were both being held hostage on this rollercoaster. Ups, downs, twists and turns. Needless to say, all they had to do was look forward to the end. It was easier to do that together, they found.

The LA house they brought that same night was consistently spotless and held within its walls nothing but happy times. The masses of hostility that attacked Harry during the day was nothing in comparison to his safe haven, a bubble in which he could finally breathe.


End file.
